Their Story in Her Eyes
by 2Old4This2
Summary: A series of stand-alone vignettes which will make up one longer story. They take place during the original trilogy, basically Han/Leia stories but including other canon characters. The stories include romance, friendship, angst, even some humor (I hope!). A new chapter is up! This is a romance chapter...it's about time!
1. Chapter 1

**Their Story in her Eyes**

A _Star Wars_ Fan Fiction

_Author's embarrassing but necessary note: Back in the dark ages, when dinosaurs walked the earth and fan fiction was composed on typewriters then photocopied for distribution, a convergence of cosmic proportions occurred—a little movie called _Star Wars _(just _Star Wars, _no episode anything) came out and I discovered the existence of fan fiction. I hunted down and read everything I could; which was tricky since there was no Google to use. I kept thinking 'I could do that, too' with every story I read. But I was young and cowardly and never wrote anything. Fast forward 35+ years. I'm no longer particularly young or particularly cowardly. Here is my very first _Star Wars_ fic. I hope you enjoy!_

The first time he saw it there, he didn't see it. He didn't see it the second, third, or fourth times either. But really, who could expect him to? He was only one man, after all, and Han Solo was already dealing with much more than he'd bargained for. First, there was holding off Jabba the Hutt and his semi-competent hired gun Greedo and evading those Imperial slugs chasing after his charter passengers. Then—then keeping himself, and Chewie, and the kid, alive to get off that kriffing battle station. Oh, and that's not including rescuing that ungrateful, impertinent, self-important princess at the same time. And finally, at great personal and monetary risk, bailing out Luke Skywalker; yanking his hopeless farm boy butt from the brink of certain death so the kid could blow up said battle station. So, how could he be expected to notice the story in Leia Organa's eyes?

The celebration showed no sign of winding down. The newly minted Hero of Yavin wobbled on his stool as he downed the latest in a long string of Corellian ales.

"Han! Buddy! Why aren't you celetrate...celbate...uh, celebrating?" Luke grinned like an idiot as he overbalanced on his seat. Chewbacca's arm snaked out to steady the young man, keeping him from toppling face first onto the worn stone floor.

Han grinned back. "I have been, kid. But I like being able to stand up."

Luke's face grew serious. "I can stand up just fine," he declared. Matching the action to his words, he rose with the exaggerated care of the seriously impaired—and fell into Wedge Antilles' lap.

Han barked out a laugh. The kid probably'd never drunk anything more potent than a fizzy before tonight. "Enjoy the party, kid!" he called out, turning to push his way through the revelers, heading for the exit. Chewbacca called a questioning growl to his departing friend, but Han merely raised a hand in response.

He needed some quiet and he needed some fresh air. Not that the thick, malodorous atmosphere of this moon counted as fresh, but beggars couldn't be choosers. At least it was quieter out here beyond the hangar doors.

But it wasn't quiet. Han listened to the squeaks, squawks, chirps and growls emanating from the jungle beyond the hangar and shivered. He'd always preferred a nice, crowded, industrial world to all this nature business. Well, pretty soon he'd be back in civilization. He figured he and Chewie could slip away early tomorrow, before the medal ceremony. They'd be back on Tattooine in a day, Jabba'd get his money, and he'd be a free man. He couldn't see a down side. Well, the kid's feelings might be a little hurt, but Luke'd get over it.

He watched a shooting star slip behind the disc of the planet Yavin, its streaking tail an unnatural, vivid green. It wasn't a star at all, he realized, just one more piece of the Death Star burning up in the planet's atmosphere. Good thing Yavin was an uninhabitable gas ball, otherwise there'd be a whole lot of unhappy beings crushed under falling debris.

A movement, much nearer at hand than the remains of the battle station, had him reaching for his blaster. Han didn't think any Imps had made it to this moon, but you could never be too careful. Warily, he squinted into the dark, catching sight of a white clad form. He holstered his weapon and relaxed his tensed muscles; it was a friendly form. Well, at least it wasn't a stormtrooper, but he wasn't sure if the individual was friendly. Princess Leia Organa leaned against one of the ancient stone buttresses.

She looked tired, disheveled, and uncharacteristically fragile against the backdrop of the old temple. Her eyes were directed at the sky, but seemed unfocussed. Probably had too much to drink, Han thought. Kids and parties. She didn't notice when he walked over to her. Or she was ignoring him.

"Hey, your Worship, you're missing the party!"

Leia jumped at the sound of his voice, one hand moving to tuck stray hairs back into those ridiculous buns she wore. Han grinned at the universal feminine gesture.

"Good evening, Captain Solo."

"You're missing the party," he repeated. He watched in fascination as she straightened her small frame, morphing from untidy child to haughty Princess in one fluid movement.

"I needed some time to think," she responded. "Not that it's any of your business." How could someone so short manage to look down her nose at him that way?

"You're right, it's not." Han wiped the smirk from his face before Leia had a chance to see it. This was the perfect time to tell her. "None if this is my business, Princess," he continued, "so tomorrow Chewie and I are taking off." She looked up at him now with resignation in her dark eyes. And sadness? Nah, not sadness. "Well, I do want to thank you..."

She didn't finish the thought. A brighter flash in the night sky drew both of their gazes upwards. As quick as it flared, it burned out. Leia shuddered.

"It's just another piece of the Death Star," Han reassured her. "They've been flaming out all night." He looked back down at her, surprised to see grief in her face. "I thought you'd be happy." Then he remembered, she'd seen her whole world blown to pieces that probably looked just like that the day before yesterday. Probably best to change the subject, he thought. "Your mission succeeded; your rebellion is moving right along."

"Is it?" She turned back to face the jungle.

"Huh?"

"Yes, we stopped the Death Star; it will never destroy another world." There was pain buried in the steel of her voice. "But Emperor Palpatine still controls the galaxy. And if the Empire didn't know where our base was before, they do now."

"Yeah, they probably do," Han conceded with a humorless chuckle.

"They're going to come for us, it's only a matter of time. We've got to evacuate." Leia waved a hand in the direction of the victory party. "Half the people in there figure we've already won. They're getting ready to go home to their families—their lives. It's not like this is a real army. These people volunteered to help us destroy the Death Star. They figure they've helped. I can't blame them, and I can't stop them from leaving."

Han studied the Princess. That's where she should be, he thought, home. She was just a kid; she should be trying on clothes and talking about boys, not leading a rebellion. But she didn't have a home anymore, except for the rebellion, did she?

"You just need to explain it to them," he suggested. "Tomorrow, when they're all together for that medal ceremony..."

"I don't think I can."

"Well, why not?" Han asked, his voice indignant. As far as he'd seen, this Princess could do anything.

She stepped away from him, looking down at the loamy ground. Han watched as her shoulders hunched and her figure seemed to shrink. When she looked up again, her eyes were bleak.

"Who am I to tell them anything? I'm a princess, a figurehead. Spoiled rotten and used to getting my own way." Leia's voice trailed off.

Han was surprised at the sudden surge of fury he felt, hearing the defeat in her voice. He wondered why. After all, she'd just voiced his own opinion of her.

"They need a fighter to convince them," Leia continued.

"Hey, your Worship, I've seen you fight plenty!" he protested.

She lifted her head; her eyes sparked. "Yes, with you!" she retorted.

Han stepped back, hands raised. "Hey, take it easy, your Worship," he said with a crooked grin. "No need to get snippy!"

"I have fought with you." Leia said to herself. "I've fought alongside you." She ran her fingers along the stone of the temple. "If you could stay, just until I have a chance to talk to the volunteers, to convince them to stay on. That would be a big help." She looked up into Han's eyes. Her eyes were big, and brown, and beseeching.

A suspicion, newly born, wormed its way into his mind. She was going to try to suck him into her rebellion. "No way, sister!" Real fear showed in Han's face. "Chewie and I have got to go. I have business that needs to be taken care of." Yeah, paying off Jabba before someone—correction—someone else, came gunning for him.

"Don't worry." It was Leia's turn to smirk. "I don't expect any commitment from you." Han rolled his eyes. "If you could just hang on long enough to get your medal." Leia smirked again. "So people can see that anyone can make a difference."

"Hey!" he objected. What did she mean, _anyone?_ She was damn lucky he'd been around to save their skins!

"You said it yourself," she continued, "I need to convince them to stay. They need to believe they can make a difference. Like you made a difference." The Princess voice was reasonable now, all traces of goading gone. "How hard can it be? You walk up to me, accept a medal, smile."

It was Han's turn to look away. She had no idea what she was asking—or how hard it would be for him. Memories of his short, less than illustrious military career prodded at his consciousness. All his youthful dreams of glory… He batted them back to the dark recesses of his nightmares.

"No, Princess," he objected, "I can't..." He sounded weak and pitiful to himself. He hated that. "I have to go," he continued in a firmer voice. "I have business that needs to be finished." Han turned to look into the jungle; he didn't want to see the plea in Leia's eyes.

"I understand that," she answered. "It would just be for a few days."

A touch, so soft he thought he imagined it, skimmed across his wrist. His head snapped back. Leia wasn't looking at him, but he could see her fingers twitch at her side. So, maybe not so much of a kid as he thought.

"Just for a few days," she repeated. Their eyes met, and there it was—fear, loneliness, despair, and a glimmer of hope. The skin on his wrist burned where her fingers had brushed it.

"I suppose I can stay for a little while."

**The kid looked ready to burst from excitement.** He was living proof that Corellians could cure a hangover as well as they could cause one. Han shook his head. He didn't even want to think about how many ales the kid drank last night. It was a good thing he kept a supply of sober-tonic on the Falcon. Not that he ever needed it, of course.

Luke straightened his jacket for the umpteenth time. "You're looking pretty good, Han," the kid commented, glancing at the other man. "I bet the Princess will be impressed."

Han ran a finger around the collar of his one good shirt and grimaced. "Well, I didn't dress to please her." Chewie rumbled a caustic comment to his friend. Han tilted his head up, glaring at the Wookie. A signal from an officer stationed near the doorway indicated it was time for the ceremony to begin, ending the impending argument between the two.

Walking between the rows of soldiers and pilots standing stiffly at attention, Han wished he'd never agreed to this whole medal event. He didn't need one; he certainly didn't want one—let the kid take all the credit! Only Chewie's solid form and warning _rrummph_ kept him from making a quick escape.

When they finally made it to the raised dais at end of the interminable aisle, Han noted that the Princess had changed her hairstyle. The braid coiled atop her head certainly suited her, he thought. She wore a different gown, too. Her home world had been destroyed, geez, how many white dresses could she possibly have stashed away? However, he found the low cut bodice and curve skimming fabric, er, pleasant. She looked like royalty. It was only when she reached over to take Han's medal from General Dodonna that he saw her swallow nervously. He was sure no one else even saw it. As she looped the ribbon over his head, he gave her an encouraging wink; her answering smile lit her entire face.

Yeah, he'd stick around for a little while longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Their Story in Her Eyes**

_Thanks to _EsmeAmelia _and _Diz_ for their kind reviews. Also, I realize I forgot my disclaimer. No, I don't own _Star Wars_, but I am eternally grateful to George Lucas for his creations._

_Now, chapter 2…_

Chapter 2 – Hoth

"The Hoth system?!"

"The Hoth system," Leia confirmed. Her chin lifted; preparing for battle, Han thought. But she couldn't actually mean what she was saying—she couldn't! One of those near misses she was always having during firefights must have blasted a little too close to her head. That was the only reasonable explanation for this kind of insanity.

"The Hoth system," Han repeated. "Are you crazy?" She was crazy, and Rieekan was crazy; blazes, the whole senior command was crazy! Yeah, so things were a little desperate, what with Imperial probe droids searching every corner of the known galaxy for them and Darth Vader alive and on the prowl, but only fools and lunatics would move a whole fighting force—an under-supplied and overextended fighting force no less—to an ice cube of a system located beyond the outer reaches of nowhere. Even with minimal military experience, Han knew it was a bad idea. And it was cold on Hoth, really cold. He looked around for support, but it appeared the other occupants of the _Millennium Falcon's_ lounge didn't share his opinion of the Alliance decision makers' mental competence.

"Chewie?" Han peered at his friend.

A long string of grunts, whumphs, and growls informed Han that his Wookiee partner thought the Hoth system was the perfect place for the Rebel forces to regroup. Besides, Chewie continued, looking straight at him, the cold air might help some people clear their heads.

"Clear their heads? Listen, pal..." Han leaped up, but Chewie rowled at him, stopping him short. The smuggler snuck a quick look at Leia, who was watching the exchange with her arms folded across her chest. Her eyes looked as cold as the glaciers on Hoth. Han realized that now probably wasn't the best time to deal with Chewie; now was the time to deal with the insanity. He settled for wagging a finger under the Wookiee's nose. "We'll talk about this later," he warned.

He stalked across the lounge. "Luke," he began, his face inches from the other man's, "this is the stupidest thing you ever heard, right?" The kid would back him up. After all, Luke wasn't stupid, just a little green.

"The Hoth system is a great idea." Luke said, eyes sliding sideways toward Leia, then back, before they met Han's. "I can't think of anyplace we'd be safer." Han observed a tiny, satisfied grin tugging at the corner of the kid's mouth.

"Actually, Hoth was Luke's idea; General Rieekan agreed with him." The Princess smiled at the younger man; Luke beamed back, like a child who'd just received a longed for treat.

Han watched the exchange with disgust. He was already sick and tired of the kid's infatuation with her High and Mightiness, and now they were planning battle strategies together! How was it possible that a naive farmboy and a spoiled princess were actually being taken seriously? The universe had gone mad!

"So go ahead, go to Hoth," Han said. He flung himself back into his chair._ I can just leave! There's nothing keeping me here! _The words were on the tip of his tongue; he almost said them out loud. But he couldn't. He looked at Luke's eager face, then Leia's impatient one—they were his friends. They made leaving harder than he'd expected. And he'd asked Rieekan for real responsibility, and gotten it. Could he just walk away? He'd boxed himself in real good this time! How could he be so stupid?

"It's time Chewie and I were moving on anyway." There, he said it! Finally! Looking away, he waited.

"Han! You can't just pack up and leave. Not now." Luke objected. "I thought you were a part of us."

"I can do whatever I want," Han proclaimed, turning back and jabbing his finger in the kid's direction. "There is no us, just me."

"But what about the Rebellion?"

"What about it?" Han leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. A faint smile touched his lips. "It's not my fight, never has been."

Luke spluttered, but Han didn't care; Chewie looked oddly at him, but they'd talk later. He was waiting for the Princess' reaction. Her face remained bland, but her eyes glinted with the hardness of Bosk fire diamonds. She might really be mad this time. Good! Han preferred some good, honest outrage to the cloak of cool detachment she seemed to wear so often. He cocked a questioning eyebrow at her.

"I think the Hoth system sounds like a perfectly reasonable location for our forces." The interruption came from across the room.

Four heads swiveled to look at Threepio. Han had forgotten the prissy droid was even there; somehow he'd managed to keep his mouth shut until now. Of course the droid agreed with her Worshipfulness; he fawned all over her! It was disgusting.

"No one asked for your opinion Goldenrod," Han remarked. He'd said those same words so many times, he didn't expect the droid would listen to him.

Threepio didn't.

"After what happened on Ord Mantell," the droid continued without stopping, "I believe we would be safest in a system with as few beings as possible." His voice emitted an electronic shiver. "That dreadful bounty hunter; I was sure we were doomed!"

"Shut up, Threepio," Han said. He turned back to Leia. "Look, Princess, I don't think..."

"Well, that's the problem, isn't it, Captain Solo?" Leia snapped back. "You don't think, at least not about anyone other than yourself." She started toward the hatch. "The Rebel Alliance is going to the Hoth system," she called over her shoulder. "Where you go is entirely up to you." Her footsteps clattered on the _Falcon's_ ramp. "Good luck, Han. You can use all the luck you can get!"

Threepio scuttled after the Princess, muttering worriedly to himself.

Luke hesitated, waiting until their footsteps echoed away. "Han," he began. One look at Han's stony face and he didn't say anything else. Chewbacca growled a suggestion to him, and Luke sighed with relief. "You're right, Chewie, we need to start prepping for the move. I better go give them a hand." He followed the others out.

Han scowled at Chewbacca as the sound of Luke's footsteps faded.

"What was that all about, pal?" he asked. His voice was calm, flat, and very dangerous. "Cold air clearing my head?" He regarded the Wookiee with narrowed eyes. "Or do you think I won't leave? You can stay if you want, pal; I'll miss you, but I am out of here!"

Chewie answered with waving arms and flying fur. His impassioned speech lasted a lot longer than Han expected. It lasted a lot longer than Chewbacca had expected, too, but Han could be so stupid!

"What? What are you talking about? I am not acting like a silly cub! I'm just tired of being told what to do by a bossy Princess!"

The Wookiee's reply was short and succinct. Han nearly choked before he could reply.

"I like the Princess? Sure, I like the Princess, the same way I like it when a punch in the face stops hurting."

"I am not overreacting," Han objected to Chewie's long rowl, "and that doesn't prove anything, anyway. But her Worship has got to understand that she can't keep giving me orders like I'm one of her underlings, catering to her every whim—I'm my own man! And this latest move is just plain stupid!"

Shaggy eyebrows raised, Chewie barked a question.

"Yeah, you're right. I'm tired of running away all the time. Either it's the whole Alliance running from the Empire, or it's me running from some kriffing bounty hunter!" His shoulders sagged. "If I don't pay off Jabba, I'm dead." He looked over at his friend. "And you might be too." He hated feeling like this, backed into a corner with no way out. "But that has nothing to do with heading off with the Alliance to the far end of the known universe. The cold end of the known universe!"

Chewie growled softly

"We'd be safe there?" Han snarled. "Listen, you furry oaf, I am not going to hide behind the Princess' icy white skirts for protection. I fight my own battles; I'm not scared!"

Chewie placed a paw on Han's shoulder. He wharrumphed solemnly.

"You aren't playing with a full _sabbac _deck if that's what you think, pal! The last person Princess Leia Organa is going to worry about is me." Han laughed without humor. Jumping up, he walked across the open area to lean against the far bulkhead. He might have looked calm and in control if he weren't drumming his fingers against his crossed arms. "She thinks I'm endangering the Alliance." A pang of jealousy twisted inside him; she thought more of her precious cause than she thought of anyone—no, anything—else. And so what? Her dedication was one of the things he admired about her—it might be the only thing! He marched back across the room and threw himself down on the bench by the holo table. What was wrong with him? Maybe Chewie was right; it was possible he was acting a little childish.

The Wookiee's next speech had Han back on his feet. "What did you say? Don't tell me I don't know what to do with a female! There are plenty females, human and otherwise, who are damn happy to have spent time with Captain Han Solo!"

Chewie barked out a laughing comment.

"If I was interested in the Princess," Han began, "not that I ever would be..." Chewbacca interrupted with another snuffling laugh, drawing a snarl from Han. "If I was, theoretically, interested in her Worship, what would you recommend?" he continued. "Should I drag her off by her hair and hold her prisoner until she submits to my will? Is that what you'd do?" He stomped off, not wanting to meet his friend's eyes. Why was he saying this stuff, Han wondered, and why couldn't he stop?

And he'd obviously pushed Chewie too far. Great! He'd ticked off his one remaining friend. The Wookiee bounded up from his seat, arms flailing in counterpoint to his ferocious howls. If Chewie actually did pull his arms out of their sockets, Han thought, it would only be what he deserved. Sometimes it was hard to see past the shaggy exterior and remember that the Wookiee was both happily life-mated, and pretty darned smart. The big guy might actually have a point. Maybe.

"Chewie! Hey!" Han shouted, trying to be heard over his friend's howls. Chewie turned, teeth bared. "Listen, I'm sorry. I was outta line. Way outta line."

Han watched nervously while Chewie reined in his temper. A glimmer of amusement sparked in the Wookiee's eyes. He harumphed with a chuckle.

Han rolled his eyes. "Yes," he sighed, "the great Captain Han Solo is apologizing. Don't look so happy about it." Another Wookiee chuckle filled the cabin.

"So, oh wise one, what do you recommend I do?"

Ignoring the thick layer of sarcasm, Chewie barked out his advice.

"You really think if I'm nice to her, she'll be nice to me? Really? That's your advice? How much engine coolant have you been sniffing?"

Chewie exploded with a cacophony of snarls and barks.

"Okay, keep your fur on!" Han grinned. As he looked at the Wookiee, the smile slipped away. "Okay, I'll give it a try."

Han shook his head in disbelief at the Wookiee's response. "What do you mean don't try?"

A short, succinct awroo answered the question.

"Sure thing, wise guy! I either do it or I don't—trying doesn't count. Yeah, right."

Han stared at Chewie; Chewie stared back. Han blinked first.

"Okay, I'll do it," he muttered.

The big Wookiee smiled.

**Be nice. Be nice. Be nice.** Han repeated the phrase to himself, keeping in time with the sound of his footsteps as they clanged on the deckplates of the command transport. He tugged his jacket more firmly into place as he walked down the corridor to the meeting room. Hoth was every bit as cold and miserable as he had imagined it would be—but here he was anyway, freezing his afterburners off. Be nice, he reminded himself.

Han hadn't crossed paths with the Princess since their encounter on the _Falcon._ It felt like months had passed since then, but in reality it had only been a few days. Actually, it felt longer than months to him. Han was willing to acknowledge that the carefully choreographed chaos of another evacuation kept everyone totally engaged, but he'd expected at least a word of thanks from Leia. After all, he had stayed with the rebel forces—again. And they'd certainly been happy enough to use his ship, _his ship_, to help them carry supplies. It would only have taken a few minutes of her precious time to show her gratitude, but obviously her high and mightiness was too important a personage for such a nonessential task.

Be nice.

The small, shipboard conference room was filled to capacity. Since the engineers were still carving rooms out of the giant ice jam that was Hoth, the bulk of the Alliance Forces were living and working on the crowded transports. Han gave silent thanks that he and Chewie had the privacy of their own ship.

The meeting had already moved well into tedium by the time Han slipped into the room, earning him a frown from the Princess. At the last second, he managed to change his own response, a mocking smile, to an apologetic nod as he leaned against the back bulkhead. Being nice was hard work!

_Of all the hells!_ he thought, as he listened to one of the officers drone on. Han's patience with the powers in charge reached its limit when they started arguing, make that discussing (being nice!) about where on this ice cube to store what. His eyes traveled to the empty chair next to Leia, vacant since General Dodonna had stayed behind during the rout on Yavin 4. That sacrifice was something Han could respect, even if he didn't understand it. Giving up your freedom, maybe your life...? There wasn't anything worth that! He gave himself a mental shake, and returned his attention to the meeting.

Han's blistering suggestion on just where the high command could store their extra blaster packs was aborted before its launch when the Princess stood, subtly maneuvering the discussion to more pressing matters than storage closets. Han observed her eyes moving to Dodonna's empty chair, then up to meet his. He responded with the briefest of nods. She really had a way with people—an ability to read and understand them—that he would never have. Luke jumped in with an observation on the desperate need for more speeders capable of handling the cold and the meeting trundled on.

Eventually it even ended. Han shuffled through the knots of standing beings, hoping for a private minute with Leia. By the time he reached the front of the room, she was in the middle of an earnest conversation with Luke and General Rieekan. Han waited at the edge of the group, not really listening to the discussion. He wanted to talk to Leia, but being nice was going to be off the table if they didn't hurry up!

Of all people, it was the General who broke up the discussion. The older man looked at Solo, just for a second, before he steered Luke out the door and toward the large ice hangar where the frozen speeders were being worked on. Han found himself alone, looking into the Princess' cool brown eyes. Now that he had her attention, he realized he didn't know what to say. And how could he 'be nice' when she looked at him like she barely remembered his existence?

"Han," she began, "I want to express the Alliance's thanks for your help with the evacuation."

Well, there was there was the thank you he'd wanted, offered in true diplomat-speak. Couldn't she make it a little more personal? "It was our, mine and Chewie's, pleasure," he managed to choke out past the indignation he could feel brewing inside him.

Leia looked surprised, just for a moment. Then she tilted her chin up, higher than it needed to be to look him in the eye. "I know you had other obligations you were concerned about. We appreciate your sacrifice." Her eyes challenged him.

That was it! Being nice was just incinerated in the backwash of his bad temper! Was she looking for a fight? He'd risked his ship, and his neck, for her and her rebel alliance, and this is what he got for thanks? The same kind of gratitude she'd offer any poor serf? Boy, was she in for a surprise!

"Listen, sweetheart," he said through clenched teeth, "I'm not some farmboy..." The Princess' eyebrows shot up and Han quickly continued "...or space jockey you can just expect to do your bidding. I'm a free man and I go where I want." Wait a minute, did that come out right? "I take care of myself," he hurried on, "I solve my own problems, I come and go as I please."

"How free can you be if you keep having to look over your shoulder?"

That shot hit its mark.

"I wouldn't have to look over my shoulder if I just got out of here!"

"Then go!"

Han stared at Leia. That wasn't the answer he expected. Or wanted, he realized.

"Well, I would," he responded, "except that you keep coming up with reasons for me to stay!"

It was Leia's turn to stare. "The Alliance," she began.

"No," he countered, "you." Well, now it was out there, Han thought. Let's see what happens.

She didn't say anything. She looked angry—and confused—he was pleased see. Why should he be the only one who couldn't figure this whole relationship, friendship, whatever it was, out?

Just as she opened her mouth to respond, Luke and General Rieekan came back down the corridor. Talk about timing.

"It looks like we're able to move out of the transports," Luke bounded over to Leia with all the enthusiasm of a puppy, Han thought.

"Good," he said sourly. "Now they can divvy up those storage closets!" Leia's brows drew together like twin thunderclouds and her eyes sparked. To his surprise, Han was almost, _almost_, certain that the sparks came from suppressed laughter, not disapproval.

"Chewie wants to know when you're coming back to the _Falcon_," Luke continued. "He could use some help off-loading."

Of course he could; off-loading alliance supplies for those damned storage closets! Han sighed. "I guess I'll go give him a hand." He turned to Leia. "We aren't through with this discussion yet, your Worship." His smile was anything but friendly.

"No, we're not, Captain." The Princess was back in control of herself, he noted sadly. She turned to General Rieekan without another word. Han swore he saw Rieekan smile at him, just for a moment. But he could be wrong.

He trudged in the direction of his ship. He and Chewie needed to have another talk, he thought. Being nice wasn't going to work for him, but he'd seen that look in Leia's eyes. That spark. He'd work this out himself, like he always did.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who's reading the story and to those who reviewed it.

It's taken me a long time to post this, sorry about that. I had to work last weekend (which is a good thing!) and then there was the tornado on Monday night. But it was just a little tornado. So, finally, here it is!

**Their Story in Her Eyes**

**Interlude 1-Flying Lessons**

"You do know how to fly, right?"

Han and Leia stood nose to nose, blocking the entrance to the cockpit of the _Millennium Falcon, _their eyes locked.

"Don't be ridiculous; of course I know how to fly! You know that! I've been piloting since I was fourteen." Leia glared up at Han. "Besides, it didn't bother you to leave me alone to handle things when the hyperdrive failed. The first time it failed," she amended. The _Falcon _had been set for autopilot then, but that system, like every other system on the ship, couldn't be trusted to operate smoothly. Leia had needed to make a few course corrections at the time, which she did without difficulty—at least until the asteroids. "You trusted me to handle it then," she pointed out.

Han ignored her latest insult to his beloved ship; right now that wasn't his concern. The bigger problem was whether he wanted his _other_ beloved flying his ship.

"Look," he reasoned, "this ship isn't like those little hoppers you flew when you were a kid."

"You know I'm qualified on larger ships," she continued, then listed a series of family shuttles and pleasure yachts as evidence. Noting the look of contempt on Han's face she hurried on. "And with the Alliance I've flown…"

"Those aren't the same at all!" he roared.

"Of course they aren't, Captain. All those ships functioned properly."

"You know, your Worship, I don't have to put up with this!"

"I don't see how you can argue, Flyboy!"

They were back to insults. Chewbacca risked a look over his shoulder from the co-pilot's station. The heat between those two could power a star destroyer! With all the time they'd been spending alone together, the Wookiee'd hoped they'd be past these little explosions, but apparently not. Chewie knew that some species used combat as part of their mating rituals, but he had never heard of humans doing so. Maybe it was just these two humans….. He bit back a chuckle and returned his full attention to the slowly passing stars.

"Han, it only makes sense to have one more qualified pilot on board." Leia smiled as she changed tactics. "What if we're attacked again? With the ship in the condition it's in, we really need to be prepared."

Han made an inarticulate rumbling noise, low in his throat. He sounded a lot like a Wookiee. "The ship is fine," he snarled, "there's nothing to worry about." A half-grin tweaked his lips. "Trust me!"

"Then there's no reason you can't teach me to fly it!"

Chewie didn't bother holding back this time; his snuffling guffaws filled the cockpit. Han held up his hands in mock surrender.

""Fine, you win, your Worship! I guess we're gonna have flying lessons." He poked his chuckling co-pilot in the shoulder, rather harder than was necessary. "Why don't you go in back, get something to eat, maybe take a nap," Han suggested. "You know, something to improve your sense of humor."

Still smiling, the Wookiee levered himself out of the seat and headed toward the access tube. However, when Han stepped back out of his way, instead of Chewie leaving, Threepio stepped in. Han rolled his eyes.

"Captain Solo, sir, I finished the inventory of the emergency rations you requested." The droid lowered himself into an empty seat with a sigh. "The ship is very well stocked, in case we are ever lost in deep space. But I don't believe we need to worry about that, do we?" Somehow, the metallic face achieved a look of deep concern. "You also seem to have an abundant supply of intoxicants," he added.

Leia sniggered.

"Chewie, take Goldenrod in back with you, would you?"

"But, sir!" Threepio objected, "I've been back there for hours!"

"Would you rather I shut you down?" His face deadly serious, Han reached for the droid's main breaker switch.

"But, sir!"

"Threepio," Leia nudged Han out of the way. "Why don't you go back and," she hesitated, groping for a task to occupy the droid, "and, categorize the hologames," she suggested finally. Han raised his eyebrows, she shrugged.

"Mistress Leia, I really don't think that's an appropriate use for my programming. I am fluent…"

"Chewie, take him back!"

With a whine from the droid and a bark from the Wookiee, the two made their departure.

"So, alone at last," Han breathed, so close to her ear it ruffled her hair.

Leia slipped under his outstretched arm and into the cockpit. She stood behind the pilot's seat, hoping she looked like she was studying the stars. She tilted her head so her unbound hair hid the flush creeping across her face and the smile brushing her lips. Damn it, one kiss and look what had happened! She'd become a simpering idiot. Look what he'd done! Ten days ago in that circuitry closet, her walls had come crashing down—when he caught her hand in his and touched his lips to hers.

Now, here she was, doing—what? They were in the middle of a war, fleeing for their lives—yes, they were fleeing very slowly—but fleeing nonetheless, and yet she felt freer than she had for as long as she could remember. For two weeks, she hadn't needed to be Leia the Princess or Leia the Leader; she was simply Leia the woman. She barely knew that woman, she'd devoted so much of her life to the Rebellion, but Leia thought she might actually like her. Han certainly seemed to. She snuck a look at him through the veil of her hair. This man, this smuggler and pirate, this lover, had given her that woman. If they never had anything else, because certainly he would leave, she would be eternally indebted to him for these two weeks. And right now she wanted to get to know the other love of his life—this ridiculous bucket of bolts.

"Uh, Leia, I thought maybe we could put this off a little," Han suggested.

"Why?"

"You know why!" He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck.

"I'm sure we'll have time for that," she smiled. "But I want to learn to fly this ship properly." Her face became serious. "There might be a time when it's important."

Han let his shoulders sag in mock defeat. "Okay, have a seat." He waved a hand at the co-pilot station.

"No."

"No? What are you talking about, no? I thought this was what you wanted to do?" Han asked through clenched teeth.

"No. I mean, yes, this is what I want to do, but I should be in the pilot's seat."

Han blinked. "Uh, listen, sweetheart…"

"Han, I want to handle her right."

His face softened at the use of the feminine pronoun, but giving in gracefully just wasn't his way. "Fine." He swept a lordly hand at his own usual seat. "But you better treat her with respect," he warned.

Respect? Leia bit down on her lip. Hard. Respect? Really? For this flying disaster? She turned to him, a smart retort ready. Then she saw the look on his face, at once hopeful and defensive, and she stopped cold. He really loved this ship. If she loved him, she would have to love it, too. There was danger in that thought, she realized, but Leia had never backed down because there was a risk.

"Don't worry, it'll be fine. I really want to do this." She ran her fingers lightly over his arm as she slipped into the pilot's chair and rolled up the sleeves of the too big shirt of Han's she was wearing. "Besides, what could go wrong with you right here next to me?" Leia smiled sweetly, shamelessly playing to Han's compulsive instinct to protect her. She didn't need anyone taking care of her! But, she realized, she _wanted_ Han to protect her. She smiled at him again, a little shyly.

Han smiled back. Her heart pounded.

They started out slowly; Leia made little turns, slight changes in declination. Rather than sit in Chewbacca's place, Han stood to the side, one hand resting on the back of Leia's seat, the other reaching over to touch a control, or to guide her hand. Leia did her best to concentrate on her piloting, but between the closeness of his body and the touch of his hand it was difficult. She swallowed hard and focused on the _Falcon._ She had to admit, itdid feel different from any of the other ships she'd flown. It was larger than most of them, but it—she—Leia corrected herself, felt more responsive than anything else she'd piloted. As he moved her on to more complicated maneuvers, even Han's proximity melted into the background. Leia began to feel the nimble suppleness of the battered ship. When she was in top form, she must be quite a ride, Leia thought. She was starting to understand Han's fondness for the _Millennium Falcon_—gods, she might be starting to share it!

They both jumped, startled, when Chewie rumbled a question from the cockpit doorway. Leia was surprised to see how much time had passed. They'd been flying for hours.

"Yeah, we're still on course," Han answered the Wookiee. "We should make Bespin tomorrow morning, ship's time." He glanced at the chronometer. "Looks like it'll be morning planetside, too." He turned to Leia. "We should probably grab something to eat and get some rest. Chewie can take care of things up her for a while. Right, big guy?"

Chewie grunted in the affirmative.

Leia reluctantly gave up the controls as Chewie folded himself back into the co-pilot's seat.

"Wait 'til you try her when the hyperdrive is working," Han remarked with childlike enthusiasm, taking her hand. "She's an absolute dream going to lightspeed!"

As they walked toward the galley, Leia's steps slowed; her legs felt heavy and uncooperative. Han talked like they had all the time in the world. But, tomorrow! Tomorrow she would put her uniform back on and rebraid her hair. Tomorrow she would once again become Leia the Princess. And Han would once again become The Smuggler with the Price on His Head. The hyperdrive would be fixed, Han would get her to the rendezvous—and then he would be gone.

"Hey!" Noticing her reticence, Han stopped and half turned in the small accessway. "Aren't you hungry?" He reached out and ran his hand through her heavy hair—a lover's touch. "If not," he smiled his scoundrel's smile, "we can always head right for my cabin."

"Cool your thrusters, Flyboy!" Leia ran her hand along his jaw. "We can eat. First."

They would keep tomorrow away for a little bit longer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Their Story in Her Eyes**

**Chapter 3-Bespin**

"You certainly have a way with people."

It occurred to Han that staying on the floor might be an acceptable option—he seemed to be spending a lot of time there—but his two companions didn't appear to agree. Large Wookiee hands and small human ones pulled insistently at his arms, lifting him and guiding him to the stark metal platform that served as a bunk. It was mute testimony to just how terrible he felt that the harsh slab felt good against his aching body. He cautiously breathed in past the pain in his ribs and closed his eyes to clear the dizziness in his head.

"Han?" Then, louder, "Han!" His eyes shot open when Leia shook his shoulder; _stang_ that hurt! "I'm okay," he lied, levering himself up on his elbows. Leia just snorted.

"Why don't you take your jacket off and let me see…" She reached toward him, her hands freezing when Han flinched back. What was the point of letting her look, he thought bitterly, it would just upset her. She couldn't do anything to help him—they didn't have any medical supplies—and Boba Fett certainly wouldn't care what condition he was in. The bounty hunter would be paid on delivery, no matter how bruised he was.

"I'm not going to hurt you; don't be a baby!" The slight quaver in Leia's voice revealed more of her feelings than the briskness of her words.

Chewie, hovering awkwardly behind the Princess' shoulder, warbled a soft comment. His blue eyes shifted significantly from Leia to Han and back. Yeah, he was probably right, Han silently agreed, it would help for Leia to have something to do. It gave a semblance of being in control, in a situation that was anything but controlled.

"Fine," he conceded. "But, be gentle with me, your Worship!" The accompanying leer lost something in its execution. When Han dropped his legs over the edge of the bunk, the sudden wave of pain and dizziness made the smirk look more like a grimace. Actually, it was a grimace.

Leia helped him pull his jacket off, then set it to one side. She pulled on the tail of his shirt, lifting it halfway up over his chest. Across his torso, burns and bruises made a gruesome, crazy quilt pattern. Chewbacca snarled out a foul epitaph in _Shyriiwook_ which Han hoped Leia couldn't understand; her eyes widened and filled with tears at the sight. Exactly what he hadn't wanted to happen. Then her eyes narrowed and her brows drew together in an angry v. Han felt his heart speed up and his breath hitch; Leia was never more beautiful than when she was fierce!

"There, see, it's nothing." He pulled the fabric from her clenched fist and dropped the shirt back into place. Reaching for her hand, Han noticed that she was back in her snow fatigues from Hoth. "Hey," he asked, very casually, "what happened to your other outfit? I thought you never wanted to wear this again." He flicked his finger across the cuff of the white sleeve. He could feel blood pounding in his temples—if anyone had hurt her…

"I asked for this back. I didn't want anything Lando gave me touching my skin." She took his face between her hands. "That's all that happened." She looked straight into his eyes for a long moment. Finally his shoulders sagged in relief.

"If that's all…"

"That's all," she reassured him. She dropped down on the bunk to sit beside him, close, but not quite touching. When he looked away, Leia shivered. He would never know that she'd had to listen to every one of his screams as Vader tortured him. She'd never tell him.

Studying the pair for a moment, Chewbacca announced that he was going to work on reassembling Threepio. He shambled over to the other bunk and purposefully picked up the golden head. Sitting down, facing the other direction, he wiggled the head onto the neck shaft sticking out of the droid's body. It wasn't much, but it was the only privacy he could offer the human couple.

Han smiled at the Wookiee's simple generosity. He reached for Leia's hand, grasping it firmly in his own, grateful for the opportunity to feel her skin against his. He had a bad feeling that they wouldn't have many more private moments together. Leia put her arm gently around his shoulders and leaned her head in. "You should get some rest," she suggested, when she felt him sag a little against her .Yeah, he should. But, in his mind, Han could see Vader, watching him scream on the scan grid; and Boba Fett, waiting to take him to Jabba when Vader was through with him. He thought about the locked door and the stormtroopers just outside it. "I don't want to sleep," he said. So, they stayed there, without words, together.

**Muffled growling woke Han from a nap he didn't know he'd taken. **He was flat on his back with his head pillowed on his folded jacket; Leia was gone. The odd noise had him shaking his head, trying to clear the odd sounds from it. When that didn't help, he realized he wasn't hearing things at all; Leia and Chewie were having a conversation across the room—obviously trying not to disturb him—the growl was the Wookiee version of a whisper. Han raised himself to a sitting position, hoping to hear what they were saying. No luck there. Chewie was bent over nearly double, while the Princess had her head tilted back as far as it would go. Somehow, it worked, for even with their disparate sizes, their faces were only inches apart and Han couldn't make out any of the words.

"Ahem!" He cleared his throat loudly; Wookiee and Princess jumped apart. Han dropped his feet over the edge of the bunk and onto the floor, pleased to see that the meager features of their detention cell stayed where they belonged. No dizziness! Leia hurried to his side. "So, how long was I out?" he asked her, dragging his hands through his hair.

"Forty-three minutes, and twenty-seven seconds," Threepio's voice rang out from across the cell before she could answer. The droid was propped against the far wall, arms and one leg partially attached, photoreceptors glowing gold in the dim light of the cell.

Han considered making a comment about reconnecting the droid's speech circuits, but changed his mind. The last thing he wanted was that gold-colored irritation nattering away, but if Leia and Chewie had any chance of escaping, Threepio's skills might come in handy. Anything to improve the odds.

"So," he began instead, "what were you guy's talkin' about? Somethin' good?" A pale shadow of his scoundrel's grin flitted across his face.

"We were talking about how we might be able to get out of here."

Han's lopsided smile faded and his face turned somber. He looked toward the locked cell door, then back to Leia's face. "Yeah, I guess we do need to talk about that." His mouth was a thin line. "I don't think we have too many options."

"If we create a distraction, Chewie can rush whoever comes in the next time the door opens." Leia placed an encouraging hand on the Wookiee's arm and looked up into his blue eyes. Distracted from the impracticality of this suggestion by the beseeching look, Chewbacca emitted a noncommittal moan.

"Captain Solo, sir, I will be more than happy to provide a distraction, if you wish. In my present condition, I can be of no other aid to you." Threepio's tone was that of noble aggrievement. "I'm done for, anyway." Han didn't know how a machine could sigh, but the droid managed it.

"If anyone's going to create a distraction it's me." Han stood and reached his hands down to hook them over his gun belt. Of course, he remembered sadly, it was long gone. He shrugged and let his hands fall limp and empty to his sides.

"What are you talking about?" Leia demanded.

She knew exactly what he meant, Han thought. He looked at their faces: Chewie's was mournful, Leia's was trying desperately to deny the obvious. Even Threepio's metallic features seemed gloomy.

"You know exactly what I mean," he said. "The best I can do for you now is to give you the best chance I can for you to get away."

"Han," Leia insisted, "we're all getting out of here."

Two quick steps and Han was next to her. He took her face in his hands and tipped it up to brush his lips against hers. "Sweetheart, there isn't any other way." A caress of his thumbs silenced her objections. "We're in a locked cell. On the other side of that door are who knows how many stormtroopers." He breathed out a brittle laugh. "Beyond them is Darth Vader and Boba Fett, and neither of them is known for their generous dispositions."

The look in her eyes was enough to tear his heart out, but he didn't look away. "Hey," he said with a tender smile, "I've had a good run. We knew it couldn't last." Han wiped away the single tear sliding down her cheek. "I'll face Jabba," he continued, "and if I can get back I will." Leia swallowed hard, twice.

"Lando said that you and Chewie had to stay here, but that you'd be alright. I don't know if you can trust him or not…"

Chewbacca interrupted with a disbelieving roar. "I know, Chewie, but it's all we've got right now," Han said. "I may actually believe him this time," he added with a sneer. "If he can get you away from Vader for long enough, you can figure out how to get back to the Alliance. See if you can find Luke," he continued, all business now, "and find a way to bring Threepio along with you."

"But Captain Solo, sir…"

"Shut up, Goldenrod, I'm trying to rescue you!"

"Han!" Leia gripped his hand in a surprisingly tight grasp. "You can't just give up!"

"Listen, the odds…"

"I thought you didn't care about the odds."

"Leia, there aren't any odds!"

One hand grabbed his arm with a strength that shocked him; her other hand tangled in his hair. "You can't give up without a fight!" she pleaded.

He saw it then. He'd hoped, before, but he hadn't been certain. Now he was. She wasn't begging for the sake of the Rebellion, she wasn't asking because of Luke. Those big eyes, swimming with tears—she was pleading for him, for them.

She looked like such a little girl, and she'd never been more precious to him. He bent over and kissed the top of her head. "I won't give up, sweetheart." But he knew wouldn't fight if it meant keeping her alive.

The door slid open and four stormtroopers marched in.

"Come with me!" one of them ordered.

Moving Leia firmly to one side, Han looked over at Chewbacca. _Watch and be ready, _his look said. One of the troopers moved forward, a set of binders in his hand. Han let him get in close, even held out his hands.

Then, his arms flew out, knocking two of the troopers off balance. Chewie roared and lunged forward. But it didn't matter. Boba Fett stepped through the door with two more troopers and matter of factly pointed his blaster at Leia and Han froze. They pinned his arms to his sides with one set of binders and immobilized his hands with another. There would be no more fighting.

Boba Fett turned and left without saying a word. Two troopers hustled them out the door, even while Chewie was trying to gather all the pieces of Threepio.

I tried, Leia, he thought.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thanks to everyone who's reading, and a special thanks for the reviews._

**Their Story in Her Eyes**

Interlude 2-Nothing Stays the Same Forever

He didn't know what to do.

So Luke put his arm around the Princess and squeezed. He hoped it was reassuring. It was such a small thing, under the circumstances—after all the damage that he'd done—but he couldn't think of anything else to do. Not right now. He was relieved when she didn't flinch or pull away. His new prosthetic hand felt natural to him, but he had no idea how it felt to someone else. Since she didn't pull away, he squeezed her shoulder again, very gently. Leia felt as cool as glass, and as fragile.

They said nothing, Luke Skywalker and the Princess, as they watched the _Millennium Falcon_ fly off into deep space, seeming to take the lives they knew along with it.

**The **_**Millennium Falcon **_**shot into hyperspace without warning, sending its occupants flying. **Luke pulled himself upright in his seat with a low moan. As far as shocks to his system today, this one had been comparatively small, but there had been so many…

"Luke, you should go back to the medbay and lie down." Leia looked at the multitude of cuts and bruises covering his body, and the obviously missing hand, and drew a shaky breath. "You must be in so much pain." Her normally sweet, contralto voice sounded dusty and broken.

"I'm okay," he said, without much conviction. Leia made an odd choking sound in her throat, but when Luke raised his head to look at her face, she had already turned around to help him stand. He let her guide him back to the bunk and apply a pain patch to his arm. Shutting his eyes, he waited for the narcotic to take effect. He knew it would relieve the pain in his body, but there was nothing to be done about the pain in his soul.

The shipboard emergency medical equipment did its job. When Luke opened his eyes again he was almost pain free. Leia was gone; she probably assumed he would sleep, but his mind was too full of questions. He needed to know what had happened since he'd gone to Dagobah—he had a very bad feeling. Sitting up, he reached out with the Force, trying to read the atmosphere of the ship. Nothing seemed right; the very air seemed to be in turmoil. Carefully, he slid off the bunk, and went in search of his fellow travelers.

First Luke went to the ship's large common area. Chewbacca's hands were deep inside one of the _Falcon's_ electrical compartments, holding a bundle of wires which Artoo was untangling. The Wookiee pulled himself away from his task long enough to give Luke an unexpectedly emotional hug, then turned away without saying a word. Confused, Luke headed for the cockpit, hoping to find Han and Leia.

They weren't there. Instead, he found a subdued Threepio, and the dark-skinned man who had plucked him from the antenna underneath Cloud City.

"Uh, hello," Luke said. It seemed a safe way to start.

"Oh, Master Luke, sir, I am so glad to see you were not seriously injured!"

Luke looked down at the pressure sleeve where his hand used to be, then back up at Threepio. The droid certainly had an interesting view of things, he thought.

Realizing his _faux pas, _Threepio tried a different subroutine. "I'm sure the Two Onebee unit will be able to fit you with a new and better hand," the droid said cheerily. Somehow, Luke didn't think that helped much. He turned to the stranger in Han's pilot's chair.

The newcomer turned his head and offered his hand. "Hello, I'm Lando Calrissian." Lando looked from his outstretched arm to Luke's bandaged appendage and let his hand drop, a sheepish look on his face. "You're Luke Skywalker?" He turned the statement into a question.

Luke nodded. "Where's Han?" he asked. He felt the tiniest thread of concern knotting inside him. He couldn't imagine under what circumstances Han would have let someone else take control of his beloved ship.

Lando shifted in the seat, turning to look at the mottled iridescence of hyperspace. "It wasn't my fault," he mumbled. Then he seemed to give himself a mental shake. "There was a problem," he said clearly.

"A problem?" Luke repeated slowly. He'd caught the slight hesitation when Lando said the word problem. The slimy tendrils of uncertainty flared brighter in the pit of his stomach. Lando's flat response and Threepio's unusual silence did nothing to stunt their growth.

Lando turned back to face Luke. "Actually, there were quite a few problems." He drew in a heavy breath. "Han brought the _Falcon_ to Bespin for repairs. They'd been running from the Imperials, and Han knew I was a friend." His eyes shifted away, then back again. "But Lord Vader and his stormtroopers got there first, just before the _Falcon_ did."

"You didn't warn them away?" Luke couldn't believe what he was hearing! He could feel anger build inside him; he took a breath and forced it back down.

"I couldn't. There wasn't time." Lando held up his hand; he didn't want to hear what the younger man might have to say. When Luke stopped, Lando ran both hands over his face. When his hands dropped, his face was gray, like used putty. "Vader was looking for you," Lando continued, in a voice leeched of all emotion. "I made a deal—turn over Han and Leia, and Vader would leave Cloud City alone."

"And how did that deal work out?" Luke asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Pretty much like you'd expect," Lando confirmed. "He tortured them, especially Han; I guess he was trying to get your attention." Lando looked quizzically at Luke. "How does that work, anyway?" he asked, "How did you know?" Luke just shook his head numbly and dropped into the copilot's seat. "In the end Vader turned Han over to Boba Fett,"Lando continued. Luke looked at him with confused eyes. "Fett's a bounty hunter; I guess there's quite a price on Han's head, courtesy of Jabba the Hutt."

"And Han just went with him?" Luke asked. Han wouldn't have gone without a fight.

"No, Vader had him frozen in carbonite."

Suddenly, Luke found he was having trouble breathing. Vader. His _father_. His _father_ had captured and tortured his friends. He froze Han in…

"Is Han alive?"

"He was in hibernation when Boba Fett took him away." Lando said, looking away. "He's alive."

Master Yoda's words, _reckless is he, _rang clearly in Luke's head. Ben had told him to wait; they both told him to wait, and now here he was. Han was trapped in carbonite, heading to his death, if he wasn't dead already. Bespin was under Imperial control. If he'd stayed on Dagobah and finished his training, would any of this have happened?

Luke wanted to be angry—and he was, with himself. But that was the last thing his overloaded system could handle right now, so he lashed out at the only other possible victim.

"So how come _you're_ here," Luke asked coldly, "flying Han's ship?"

Luke hit his mark, Lando blanched. "I'm not feeling very good about myself right now," Lando admitted. "But I did get Leia and Chewie away from the stormtroopers." His chin lifted. "And Vader didn't get them," he added defiantly.

"And Boba Fett?" Luke prompted.

"We tried to stop him; we were too late." There was regret in Lando's voice, and pain. "We were so close," he said softly.

Looking back, Luke realized he could have stopped Boba Fett, too, if he'd known what was going on. And if he hadn't been so intent on facing Vader. His _father. _It made him feel unclean, having that blood running through his veins. No, he wouldn't hate Lando. It wouldn't bring Han back, and he'd been too blinded by hate already. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, calling on the Force for calm.

"Where's Leia?" he asked instead. "Is she okay? She wasn't hurt or anything?"

"She's not hurt; she fought like a rancor. But with Han gone…" Lando let the thought die. "I think she must be back in one of the cabins"

Leia had seemed different when he'd seen her, almost as if she were overwhelmed, defeated. Luke had assumed it was because she was upset over his injuries. Now he realized she must be feeling badly about Han, as well. He knew that beyond all their fighting, they were really friends. He wasn't surprised she was taking his capture so hard.

"Excuse me, Master Luke," Threepio interjected. The droid seemed hesitant, which was unusual for him. "When we traveled to Bespin, it took some days."

"Hyperdrive wasn't working," Lando clarified.

"Captain Solo and Princess Leia spent a great deal of time together. I spent a great deal of the time with Chewbacca." Threepio managed to vocalize displeasure. "If I didn't, Captain Solo would switch me off!" he explained indignantly. The droid recollected himself, and modulated his voice. "I don't know if that's important or not, sir."

"Thanks, Threepio, but it probably doesn't make any difference." Luke extricated himself from Chewie's seat. "I'm going to see if I can find Leia." He left the cockpit, wondering why Lando was looking at him so strangely.

What Threepio told him really didn't surprise him. A long, slow trip would have forced his friends to spend time together. It was a small ship, they could hardly have avoided each other the entire time. Maybe they'd actually stopped bickering! And Han's dislike of Threepio was legendary. Luke smiled. He could see Chewie keeping the droid out of Han's path. But none of that had anything to do with Leia's odd behavior now. He wondered if she felt responsible for what had happened on Bespin. Certainly she could see that she had nothing to do with any of it. He wondered how he would tell her that it was his fault.

Luke headed back to the main hold. Chewbacca was still at hard at work, now sunk down past his knees in the service access hatch, muttering to himself as he reconnected a series of circuit boards. Artoo was tweeting information to him from the engineering station.

"Chewie?"

The Wookiee looked up, still holding a board in his hand.

"Chewie, Lando told me what happened. I'm sorry." Luke saw the pain flare in Chewie's blue eyes and swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. _Sorry _seemed so inadequate. "I'm looking for Leia," he stumbled on. "I haven't seen her since right after we went to lightspeed. Do you know where she is?"

Chewie whuffed shortly, and pointed a hairy hand in the direction of the crew quarters. Luke had figured as much; Leia had looked so tired. He hoped she was getting some rest. Somehow, Luke suspected, there would be an awful lot of questions that needed to be answered when they got back to the fleet, and a lot of people who needed answers. And right this minute, Luke needed answers.

"Hey, Chewie?" Chewie tilted his head to one side. "Is Leia okay?" Luke asked. "Lando said she wasn't hurt, but something doesn't seem right."

Climbing out of the access pit, Chewie headed for the lounge area, indicating Luke should do the same. That slimy, uncertain feeling made its reappearance in Luke's stomach; Chewie's eyes were deadly serious. Making matters worse, Luke was afraid he wouldn't be able to follow what Chewbacca had to say; his understanding of _shyriiwook _was pretty basic. Well, he'd just have to direct the conversation as best he could, keeping it as simple as possible, so he could follow along.

"She's upset about Han, isn't she?" Luke said. "I guess I just have to explain to her…"

Chewie cut him off with a roar. What followed wasn't a tirade, Luke was pretty sure, but it still shocked him with both its length and its volatility. And Luke wasn't understanding a word of it.

"Wait, Chewie! Slow down! I don't know what you're saying."

Though obviously still upset, Chewie did slow down enough so that Luke understood about every third word. The problem was, he hadn't heard many of those words used before. In desperation, he reached out to Chewbacca with the Force, hoping to get the emotions behind the words. Those emotions were both raw and powerful.

_Of course Leia was upset about Han. Why wouldn't she be? They were obviously meant to be life-mates, and that—_therewas no way Luke could translate the word Chewie used to denote Vader_—had tortured them, and torn them apart. Han had told him—_Chewbacca, Luke understood_—that it was now his responsibility to watch over the princess. It was a part of the life-debt Chewie owed Han. Luke better understand that that was exactly what the Wookiee planned to do, and that Luke had better do nothing to upset the poor female; she'd been hurt enough already._

The Wookiee now stood towering over Luke, hands on his hips, waiting for an answer. All Luke could do was assure him that he would do nothing to hurt Leia. Satisfied with this response, Chewie seemed to deflate, bending under the shock of what had happened, and the new responsibility Han had given him.

Luke reached up and gave his friend's arm a supportive squeeze. Chewie enfolded him in another bone-cracking hug—then he reached out and ruffled Luke's unkempt head, very much like Uncle Owen used to do when Luke was just a child. Still open to the Force, that giant wave of comfort and love washed over him like a physical thing. He smiled his thanks as Chewie dropped back down into the hatch.

The crew quarters were just around the corner from the main hold —if you could use that term on a saucer shaped ship. They looked the same as they always did. The two extra berths were neatly made up, while Chewbacca's oversize bunk was its usual tangle of pillows and covers. Luke assumed that the Wookiee liked it that way; maybe it reminded him of home. Leia wasn't there. Well, she probably was looking for privacy; the ship seemed remarkably full of people right now. Luke continued around the corridor to Han's quarters.

The door was shut. Luke considered knocking, then thought better of it. If Leia was asleep, it was best to leave her that way. He still couldn't believe how drained she'd looked. However, when he stretched out to feel her presence, instead of the stillness he'd expected, Luke felt frenzied activity. Instinctively, he reached out to palm the door open, freezing mid-motion, belatedly remembering the hand that wasn't there. Awkwardly, he reached out with the other hand, hoping that palm would work. It did.

Leia stood in the middle of the small cabin, a welter of sheets and blankets on the floor at her feet. She held a pillow in her hands, and was busily yanking off the case. When she looked up at the sound of the door opening, Luke could see her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen from crying, though they were dry now.

"Luke, are you alright? Do you need anything?" Leia dropped the pillow on the floor, and kicked it to one side. "You should be resting." She reached his side in two quick steps.

"I'm fine." If he were to be honest, he wasn't fine, not at all. The pain medication was starting to wear off, and the fresh reminder of the missing hand, and how he'd lost it, brought back the pain in his soul. But Leia's pain was partly his pain, too, and maybe he could help her. He leaned against the bulkhead wall.

"Leia, what can I do?"

She looked at him like she didn't know what he was saying. "Thanks," she answered, "but I don't need any help. I just wanted to clean this up, put these," she indicated the bedding she'd tossed on the floor, "in the autovalet. Just…" she stopped, swallowing back tears.

"Why don't you sit down and rest for a minute," Luke suggested gently.

"No, I'm almost through." Leia's eyes searched the cabin, spying a brush lying on top of a small chest. She yanked open a drawer and scooped the brush into it. Her hand hovered for a moment over the open drawer, then reached in and lifted a wide ribbon. Luke recognized it, but, at that moment, he couldn't place it.

"He kept it," Leia said. When she pulled her hand out of the drawer, Luke knew why it looked so familiar. It was the medal Han had received after the destruction of the Death Star. Luke's matching one was with his own belongings, wherever they were right now. Leia held it up, the commendation catching the light as it swung from its ribbon. "He made such a fuss over this," she continued, her eyes filling with tears. "How it wasn't important; that he didn't want it. And it's been right here, where he could see it every day. He's such a…" Leia didn't finish. Instead, she dropped it back into the drawer and slammed it shut. She reached down to pick up the bundle on the floor.

Suddenly, Luke felt so overwhelmingly tired he didn't think he could stand. With a start, he realized that he was feeling Leia's exhaustion, along with his own. How odd. Apparently the connection they made when he called to her through the Force was still there. He dropped heavily onto the stripped bunk. "Leia, come sit with me for a minute," he invited. If he could just get her to sit still for a moment, he'd try to explain what had happened; how all of this was his fault. Maybe he could relieve some of that terrible burden he could tell she was struggling under right now.

She dropped the laundry she had just picked up, and stepped back toward the door. The look in her eyes made Luke feel like he'd suggested something unclean. "Luke, I can't," she said. "Not," she stuttered, "I just can't."

This made no sense! Could she possibly sense the truth? Did it radiate off him like a bad odor? Could she tell what he—and his _father, _he thought with horror—had done to all of them. Leia just stared at him, clutching one of Han's dirty shirts. No, she wasn't staring at _him_, she was staring at the bunk, with that horrible, haunted look in her eyes.

Slowly, the pieces came together—the funny look on Lando Calrissian's face, Chewbacca's emotion-filled speech. _Captain Solo and Princess Leia spent a great deal of time together_, Threepio had said. Not just as friends, he realized. Now Luke could see the long, dark, hairs on the shirt Leia was holding. And the brush; it wasn't Han's hair in the brush, it was Leia's. They'd been together. _Been_ together! Luke could feel it all pouring out from Leia, now that he opened himself to it. Passion, lust, satiety—and tenderness, compassion, sacrifice. He could sense it now, what his two friends had discovered in one another, and it was all that was beautiful between two beings. Life-mates, Chewie had said; that was the only way you could describe it.

"I love him." Leia's knuckles were white as she held the shirt against her breast.

Luke only nodded. He knew. He knew, and his heart was breaking. "I'm going to go lie down again," he said. "I'm really tired." He needed to be alone.

"Here, let me help you." Leia was still clutching Han's shirt.

Luke waved her away with his left hand—he remembered this time—and walked to the door. "I'm okay," he said, even though he wasn't. "You need to finish up in here."

"Luke! I'm sorry." Leia's lips trembled.

"No. You don't need to be."

**Luke felt the **_**Millennium Falcon **_**shift back to real space; it was as smooth a transition as he could remember**. The irony wasn't lost on him. For all the trouble Han had with his temperamental ship, now that he wasn't here, it was running just the way it was supposed to.

As tired as he was, Luke hadn't slept. He'd applied another pain patch to the stump of his arm and shut his eyes, but the hoped for escape had refused to come. Instead, his thoughts spun dizzily around Han, Leia, and Vader. His father. He could feel the truth in that—his _father! _He wondered if it was that ghastly genetic joke that was causing the dark thoughts in his head, or if it was his own, personal link to the dark side.

He'd actually thought about what it would be like if Han couldn't be found, if he was truly lost. Then, Luke rationalized, he could have Leia. He'd always loved her, and there'd be nothing to stand in his way.

_Force! _What was wrong with him? Han was his friend—his best friend—and Luke couldn't think of a better one. Yes, Han Solo was reckless, brash, ridiculously opinionated, insolent, and boastful. But, Luke readily admitted, Han was also faultlessly brave and uncompromisingly loyal. It was like having an older brother—a teasing, irritating older brother, but one you could depend on. Someone who would, and had, risked his own life more than once, for Luke's sake.

Luke shifted on the narrow bunk, wrinkling his face at the twinges of pain the medication couldn't completely mask. Leia had come in once, to check on him, but Luke had kept his breathing even and his eyes shut, feigning sleep. He could feel her concern for him, flowing from her like an approaching sandstorm. And behind that, he could feel her love for Han, and the aching pain of his loss was causing her. She'd kissed him, ever so gently, before she left him alone again. It was the kiss of a dear friend; Luke could tell that now.

Luke loved Leia; Leia loved Han. So Luke would do whatever it took to find Han and bring him back—to Leia. It was as simple a syllogism as Luke had ever learned in school; and it was the most complicated one. Leia loved Han, but so did Luke. Already he could feel the loss of his friend, a hole in the fabric of his life. Luke would get him back because Han was his friend; Leia would get Han back because he was her future.

**Leia didn't move. She kept watching out the viewport, long after the **_**Millennium Falcon **_**had disappeared into the vast spiral of stars. **Luke didn't say anything; why should he? If Leia needed to look, and to send out thoughts of hope and success to Lando and Chewbacca, who was he to suggest otherwise. They'd be successful, Luke knew it. Through the Force, and through his heart, he knew it.

Leia sighed, finally, and shutting her eyes, she leaned a little against him. Luke held her protectively against his side. He didn't let her go until he felt her straighten. Her eyes were open now, calm and collected.

"I have to go and talk to Mon Mothma and the other council members," she said. "I'm not looking forward to it."

"Have you told anyone what happened?" Luke asked. She must have. Certainly someone would have wondered about the odd mix of people arriving on the _Falcon_, and how they all came to be there. He wondered how Leia had explained his injuries. No one had asked him about it. Yet.

"I talked to Carlist, General Reiikan, last night. After you were asleep," she added. Leia had been at his side constantly since they'd rendezvoused with the fleet; making sure he was taken care of properly. Luke was glad she'd talked to the general; he knew that Reiikan was an old, dear friend of Leia's father.

"Are you okay?" she asked him for the hundredth time, or so it seemed to Luke.

"I'm fine, good as new." He held up his arm and flexed the fingers on his new, prosthetic hand. "It feels like the one I was born with." Of course, he wasn't fine, not inside his soul. But he wouldn't tell Leia what had really happened between him and Darth Vader. He couldn't now; maybe he never would.

"Are you okay?" he asked her in return.

"Yes," she replied automatically. Luke looked steadily at her. "No," she conceded, "I'm not." Luke saw the dark shadows in her eyes, and on her features, before she hid them away again. "But I will be."

"Leia, we'll find him." Luke had never meant anything as much as he meant that. "He'll be back."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Luke." She smiled sadly, kissed him on the cheek, and turned to walk away.

"I'm not!" he called after her. "I will keep that promise." Leia stopped and turned to look at him. She hesitated, then smiled a real smile, before she continued on her way.

Luke knew what to do now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Their Story in Her Eyes**

_Chapter 6 – Tatooine_

He couldn't see and he couldn't hear. He couldn't breathe. But he could feel. Thousands, no, millions, of tiny pricks of pain surged against his body, holding him, crushing him. There was no beginning and there was no end—there was only now. And now was filled with dark, and pain, and cold, and aloneness. He wanted to scream, he needed to scream, but the only thing in his lungs was sharp, cutting pain.

He was falling…..

"Hey, you okay? We can't stop here, but it's only a little bit further." Leia placed one hand on his arm to steady him as he stumbled, while her other hand tightened its grip on his. He squeezed her hand back.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Let's just get out of this." Han sucked in as deep a breath as the howling wind would allow, and pushed forward through the brown blur of swirling sand. Leia's grip on his hand never loosened.

Han wasn't fine and he knew it; this was only a sandstorm, but even that had been enough to send his mind back to his carbonite tomb. He shivered, hoping Leia wouldn't notice. But of course she did. She squeezed his hand again, twining her fingers with his, and he had to admit, that even if he wasn't fine, this was a lot better than he ever hoped he would be.

**The discordant groans and clunks of the **_**Millennium Falcon's**_** main ramp raising and its hatch closing were music to Han's ears, **and the odor of the ship's recycled air smelled like perfume to in the main access corridor, grinning like an idiot, he knew he was home.

He could hear raised voices coming from the direction of the cockpit. Apparently Leia and Lando were trying to convince Chewbacca that his blaster burn should be treated with a bacta patch, which, of course, Chewie viewed as a sign of weakness. Even worse, Lando had suggested that maybe the Wookiee shouldn't be piloting the ship, in his condition. It sounded to Han as if Chewie was losing his temper—never a good thing. It was probably time to get up there and help settle the dispute. Turning toward the raised voices, Han walked blindly into an unseen corner of the cockpit corridor.

He stumbled back, leaning against the wall for support. What in the nine hells? He knew this ship better than he knew anything else in the known and unknown universes! But his vision had gone again; he couldn't see. Han stood there, shivering, as lights flashed in front of his eyes. Terrific—those he could see! He pressed his hands against his eyes, willing the stars away. When the shooting lights finally disapated, he opened his eyes. _Stang_! Everything was still a white blur. He blinked furiously, and slowly the fog in front of his eyes drifted away. He was getting better, he told himself, at least now he could make the white blur go away. Straightening, he headed around the corner into the corridor, meeting Leia coming the other way. The corner of his mouth lifted in delight; she was wearing the most—unexpected—outfit he'd ever seen her in. And boy was he glad he could see it!

"Leia!" Steady, Solo, told himself, you sound like a nerf in rut.

Taking his hand, Leia looked up into his face. "I guess your eyesight's coming back," she observed with a smile.

"Just in time." His grin flashed, then slowly faded, as his fingers brushed the remains of the metal collar around her throat. "Leia, I'm sorry you had to go through this."

"It doesn't matter," she said. "All that matters is that you're back."

But he could see in her eyes that it did matter; what Jabba had done to her had been both demeaning and repulsive. And he could see that she'd done it all for him. That that was even possible was a new, and wonderful, and terrifying thing for him to know, all at the same time. He couldn't remember ever being loved like this before. Han took her chin in his hand, tipped her face toward his, and kissed her as though his life depended on it. Because, he realized, maybe it did.

When she could breathe again, Leia said, "C'mon Captain. I don't know about you, but I'd really like to change my clothes."

Han looked down at his own clothes and, in some surprise, realized he'd been wearing them for six months! "Yeah, that's probably a good idea," he agreed.

Six months had passed, even though for him it had been just a day. That was a long time, six months; a lot of things could happen. Look at Luke. Boy, had he changed! He wasn't a kid anymore, Han conceded, he was definitely a man, and—he admitted grudgingly—a Jedi. Luke and Leia? Six months was a long time for them too—he didn't even want to think about that possibility, not at all. But they were young… No, that couldn't be possible—not the way Leia'd just kissed him. That definitely hadn't been a pity kiss.

"Han? Hey! Where'd you go?" Leia shook his arm.

"I'm right here," Han reassured her. He was suddenly aware that he needed to kiss her again. He bent his head down, her face turning up toward his…

"Captain Solo, Princess Leia!" With a whine of servomotors, C3PO clanked into the corridor. Han heard himself growl. "Captain Calrissian says you need to strap in, we're ready to lift off."

Han couldn't even count the number of things that were wrong with that sentence. "Threepio," he began menacingly, "you tell _Captain _Calrissian…" But Leia just smiled and grabbed Han's hand. "Thanks, Threepio. You'd better strap in, too," she said.

"Oh, yes, Mistress Leia." He headed back for the cockpit. The deckplates rumbled under their feet as the _Falcon's _sublight engines powered up. Leia took Han's arm, gently guiding the reluctant captain away from the cockpit and toward his berth in the back of the ship.

"Don't worry, Chewie's up there to make sure Lando doesn't steal your ship."

"That's not funny," Han grumbled.

By the time they'd reached his cabin, Han had made another unpleasant discovery—six months in carbonite does not give your injuries a chance to heal. Every, bump, bruise, and burn he'd received that last day, well, his last day, at Bespin, were still there, nearly as fresh as the day he'd gotten them, which for him was yesterday. Added to those were the new ones he'd received getting away from Jabba. He felt terrible. Leia had had to slow her steps to match his as they walked through the hold and into the cabin. He hated that, too. He dropped onto his bunk with a stifled groan. She sat down next to him, and they stayed there as the ship lifted smoothly off Tatooine and into space.

"I am never going back to that sandpit," Han stated firmly. "I hate it there."

He took a minute to look around his familiar quarters, blinking a little as the white fog threatened a return. They were just the same as they'd always been. No, they weren't. "It's…cleaner in here," he observed in some confusion. "Did you have the ship detailed while I was gone?" Han's tongue stumbled a little on that last word. Gone didn't begin to cover the last six months.

"I guess I'm just neater than you are; I've been using the cabin." Leia glanced at him. "I didn't think you'd mind." She looked younger, suddenly, and a little shy.

"I don't mind." Han's smile was gentle. He liked to think of her in his cabin.

Leia jumped off the bunk and went to the small cabinet bolted into the bulkhead. Grabbing a bundle of clothes, she headed for the 'fresher. "I'll be right back." Han listened to the muffled sounds coming through the door, smiling when he heard the clang of the metal collar and brassiere hit the floor with just a little more force than was necessary.

When the 'fresher door opened, Han hadn't moved. Well, at least he hadn't moved very far. He was now lying down, though he'd managed to keep his booted feet off the freshly cleaned bunk. He'd done it this way since getting the boots off seemed too much like work. He shut his eyes; he just needed to rest for a minute. His eyes popped open again when he felt the touch of Leia's hand. He blinked furiously at the fog that seemed determined to cloud his vision.

"Hey, Flyboy." She rested her hand lightly on his cheek, like he was a delicate work of art. There was no way he could be this lucky, he thought to himself, as he turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. When he pushed himself upright again, he only moaned a little, but it was enough to cause her some distress. He could see it in her eyes.

"Sorry," he said, "I guess I'm still a little off. Six months is a long time."

"You have no idea," Leia agreed, her voice shaky. He watched as she pulled herself together. "Why don't you get changed," she reminded him.

"Are you offering to help? I can make it worth your while." Han tried out his scoundrel's grin. He was pleased to see it still worked; two bright spots colored Leia's cheekbones.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Slick," was all she said.

"Where'd you hear that one?" he asked. No one had called him Slick since he'd been in the Tion Hegemony—years before Luke, Kenobi and the Rebel Alliance.

"Chewie and I had some time to talk," Leia explained, "on our way to Jabba's palace." She gave a little shiver of disgust at the thought of the late, unlamented Hutt. "My _Shyriiwook _is getting pretty good, and he tells great stories." She bent over to tug at one of Han's close-fitting boots.

He watched her with bemused interest. He certainly hoped he could keep his promise, six months was a really long time, he was discovering. Leia was more beautiful than ever, even dressed in a pair of snug-fitting uniform trousers—which he definitely approved of—and an oversized shirt.

"Hey!" he said suddenly.

Leia looked up from the second boot. "Am I hurting you?"

"No. Isn't that my shirt?" he asked.

She looked back down at the boots, but Han could see telltale color creeping up one cheek. She was embarrassed! "Yes, it is your shirt. You weren't wearing it," she added defiantly.

"The same shirt from the trip to Bespin?" Han felt his heart speed up. There was something wonderfully, well, wonderful, about her wearing that shirt!

Leia stood up, one hand on her hip, and glared at him. "Yes, it's the same shirt. Yes, I've been wearing it ever since, like some lame-brained heroine from a romantic holovid," she said. "It smelled like you." Her voice lowered to a dusky whisper. "When I wear it, it feels like you're holding me." She looked at him, her eyes filled with hope, and fear, and longing—and just daring him to make a smart ass comment in reply.

Han didn't. He wouldn't. He would never hurt her again. Never.

At that moment, they both felt the change in the engines as the _Falcon _made the shift to hyperspace.

"How long until we rendezvous with the fleet, do you think?" Han asked.

"What?" Leia asked, momentarily confused. "Oh, about four or five hours, I guess." She looked curiously at him "Why?"

"Come here."

"Why?" she asked again

"Why do you think? Just come here." Han stretched out his hand to her as he shifted over on the bunk, making room for her. But not too much room.

"Han," she began. "I don't think this is a good idea. What about the hibernation sickness?"

"What about it? I'll work around it. Just come here." Leia was probably right about this, he thought; she usually was right. This was a stupid idea. It was just adrenaline, and a few other hormones, making him feel this way. But right now he needed her near him, with him. He needed to feel her skin against his, after he'd been alone in the cold for so long.

"I still don't think this is a good idea," she said, but Han could tell she was weakening.

"Please."

Leia's eyes filled with warm, welcoming tears as she moved to him.

"Lock the door," he suggested.

**Somehow, by the time the **_**Millennium Falcon**_** shifted back to real-space, Han and Leia had managed it all. **Their clothes were changed, and they were both rested and refreshed. Their lovemaking had been short, but sweeter than Han could ever remember. They'd fallen asleep in each other's arms, each not willing to let the other go. And when the nightmare took him, plunging him back into the living death of six months frozen in carbonite, Leia had held him and warmed him until it passed. Neither of them said anything—there really was nothing to say.

When they emerged from his cabin and made their way into the cockpit, Chewie jumped up from the copilot's station to envelope the two of them in a single, bone-cracking hug. Lando offered them a smile and a single, lewd waggle of his eyebrows, which both Han and Leia chose to ignore. In return, Lando ignored every groan, unnecessary correction, and unasked for bit of advice that Han made as the _Falcon _docked with the fleet.

Any hope Han had entertained of just slipping quietly back into his old life was dashed as soon as they stepped through the airlock and onto _Home One._ Blinking as he stepped into the bright light of the Mon Calamari ship, Han saw both Mon Mothma and General Reiikan. Mon gave Leia a warm a hug, as did Reiikan. Neither of them hugged Han, though Reiikan shook his hand and welcomed him back like he really meant it. Over their heads, Han caught sight of Wedge Antilles, who waved cheerily at them before turning to the other members of Rogue Squadron gathered there. Credits were definitely changing hands among them. Han wondered what the odds had been on his getting back alive. He was pretty damn pleased to have beaten them. And, most surprising of all, he was pretty damned glad to be back.

**Han knew there was no way he was going to avoid a visit to the medical frigate. **He'd assured Leia that he was fine, that his vision had cleared (well, it mostly had) and that he was over the hibernation sickness (because nightmares didn't count, did they?) Hadn't he proved to her that he was fine while they were on the _Falcon, _he'd asked her with a grin. But she'd just grinned back at him and escorted him to the frigate. When had her Worship gotten so bossy? Wait, he thought with a grin, she was this bossy when he first met her on the Death Star; now he was just seeing it from a different point of view. So, he gritted his teeth and put up with the poking and prodding from the medical droids, because he wanted to be done with it and back to the way things should be.

"See, I'm fine," he told her. They were back in the busy corridors of _Home One_; Han had gone to make sure that Chewie had gotten medical treatment for his blaster burn—sometimes the Wookiee avoided the medcenter, the stupid furball—and Leia had gone in search of Luke.

He _was_ fine, mostly. They'd given him some drops to help his eyes recover from the effects of the carbonite—Han had even used them. A liberal application of bacta salve had cured the assorted injuries he'd accumulated. Well, it almost cured him. However, when the Two Onebee unit had suggested he use a sleep aid, Han had objected, loudly. It had only been one _kriffing_ nightmare—people did have nightmares—and Han wanted to make sure there was nothing that could cloud his mind, not with what was going to be happening in the next few days.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Leia explained. "Six months is a long time." She looked up to study his face.

"I'm fine," he said again. "Trust me." She answered his lopsided grin with a small, preoccupied smile.

"Is Luke back yet?" Han asked her, accurately guessing what Leia was thinking about.

"No, and he said he'd be back."

Han could almost see Leia's concern for Luke radiating off her. He wasn't sure what bothered him more, the fact that she was so invested in Luke's well-being, or the fact that she was upset. He didn't want her to be bothered by anything, but he really didn't want her thinking about Luke.

"I'm sure he's fine," he reassured her. "The kid knows how to take care of himself." Well, Han decided, he certainly wasn't going to stop _calling_ him kid, even if he was a Jedi knight.

Their pace slowed as they arrived at the junction of several corridors. "Hey," Leia asked him, "where'd you disappear to before? I went to the medcenter and they told me you'd already gone."

Han stopped entirely, moving to one side to let a group of Bothan's pass them by. He ran a nervous hand around the back of his neck. "I had a couple of things I needed to, eh, take care of," he said casually. He hoped it wasn't too casually; Leia was good at picking up on stuff like that. "You know, six months is a long time!" he added.

Leia watched him for a minute, obviously not believing a word he said, but not wary enough to interrogate him about it. Yet. They continued on in silence.

Well, she'd find out where he'd been at the briefing tomorrow, Han thought. There wasn't any reason to go into it tonight. He didn't know why he was so reluctant to tell Leia about his meeting with Generals Reiikan and Madine, he really didn't. Maybe it was because, once she found out that he'd made a real commitment to the Alliance, that would finally be the end of the old Han Solo. He hated to admit it, but that thought scared him. Or maybe, Leia wouldn't love the new Han Solo. That thought scared him more.

When they reached the junction that lead to the _Falcon's _docking berth, Han stopped again.

"Well, your Worship," he smirked, "I guess we better get some real sleep. It's gonna be a busy day tomorrow." Han took the Princess by her shoulders and kissed her lightly on the top of her head. "Get a good night's sleep," he said. He turned toward the _Falcon._

"Han! Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to get some sleep, like everyone keeps telling me to!" What was bothering her now?

Leia turned disbelieving eyes on him. "On the _Falcon?"_

"It is _my_ ship, in case you've forgotten, your Highness," Han responded, with an excellent display of sarcasm. "I don't have a berth here. I was gone for six months."

"I have quarters here."

Han stopped dead. "Your quarters?" he asked. "But… What about people finding out…?" She was inviting him to her quarters! Was it possible, perhaps, that he'd woken up in some alternate universe? Or maybe he'd died in the carbonite and he hadn't gone to the bad place, like he always assumed he would, and instead ended up in heaven?

Han continued to stare dumbly at Leia as her smile grew. It struck him that that smile might be the Royal House of Alderann's version of the scoundrel's grin.

"Han," she said, "if you think that no one has figured out that you and I are just a little bit more than comrades in arms, you really are a half-witted nerf-herder!"

Yup, that was definitely the scoundrel's grin.

His grin matched hers. "Since you put it that way," he said, "I suppose I could come."

"Come on, Flyboy, I'm not letting you out of my sight."

**When Leia came out of the tiny 'fresher in her quarters, Han was sound asleep in the bunk. **Even when she nudged him over so she could slip in next to him, he didn't waken. She kissed his bristly cheek and curled up around him. When the nightmare came, even then he remained asleep, safe in the arms of his Princess.


End file.
